


to be two and to be but one

by thekatelynoftheopera



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bookstore AU, Clarke Griffin/Lexa - Freeform, Clexa, F/F, Modern AU, clexa au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekatelynoftheopera/pseuds/thekatelynoftheopera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Lexa decides to read all summer, Clarke works in a bookstore, and neither of them realize what they've gotten themselves into. clexa bookstore au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be two and to be but one

The bookstore was small, two blocks’ walk from her apartment, shoved in between a Starbucks and a tourist outlet. A tourist outlet, of all things. That place in particular confused Lexa, who didn’t think this town had much to see. A lake, an ice rink, and a high school were its main features. Sadly, Lexa wasn’t the best swimmer, she didn’t enjoy the cold, and the high school was in the past. There were three months until she went back for her junior year of college, and she certainly wouldn’t spend them at her old high school.

Three months. Indra went to stay with family on the coast all summer, and Anya had left for an impromptu camping trip with some of her other friends whom Lexa didn’t know and didn’t care to. Anya was like that: always leaving at the drop of a hat to go seek out a new experience. She had invited Lexa along, an offer which had been promptly refused. The last thing she needed was a week of polite small talk and glances of pity as all of Anya’s friends side-eyed her. Lexa Woods, they would say, so pathetically introverted that her only friend had to drag her kicking and screaming out of the house for some meager social interaction.

It wasn’t true; Anya wasn’t her only friend. But that’s what they would think.      

So she found herself in front of this bookstore. Lexa enjoyed reading well enough, or at least she had before AP English had beat the enthusiasm for books out of her back in high school. If she had three months of free time to herself, without Indra, dealing with Anya’s unpredictable level of availability, she may as well rekindle that love of books. It would keep her brain active at the very least.

The store was even smaller on the inside. There was room enough between the shelves for a person to stand nose-to-nose with the books, which were alphabetized within the sections. Two other people roamed around the sections, and a girl with her half of her blonde hair pulled back was reading a hardcover at the silent register. Music that should be reserved for a spa was playing quietly from the speakers. It was probably supposed to be relaxing, but to Lexa, it just felt out of place.

She strolled the aisles, looking at the hand-written signs for each genre. Crime Fiction, Classics, Cooking, Fiction, Science Fiction…she couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten a book for herself. What did she like to read?

The bells at the front of the store rang and Lexa glanced over. The other two customers had left the store.

After a quick pace of the aisles, Lexa took a pause in front of the blank notebooks before she decided to just leave and see a movie that night instead. Maybe she could check out some book reviews online and come back tomorrow. She felt awkward leaving without buying something, though, so she did her best to avoid the cashier’s eyes and walked quickly towards the door.

Clearly, her invisibility act needed some fine tuning, because the girl called after her, “Find everything okay?”

Lexa didn’t answer as the door’s bell chimed above her.

***

The next day, Lexa found herself outside of the bookstore again.

The long and short of it was, nothing good had been playing at the movies, and when she called Lincoln to ask what he was doing, he was busy with his new girlfriend. After a night of lying on her bed counting cracks in her ceiling, she decided to revert back to her original plan: read. It was an easy choice, especially with her other two options for plans gone; she had never been one for doing absolutely nothing. It drove her insane, even if it was just for an hour or two. She always had to be active or asleep, and there was no in-between.

She pushed open the door, and of course, with her luck, the same girl from yesterday was at the register.

_Figures._

Pretending to not recognize the cashier, she took a lap through the aisles again. There were a few instances where her path was interrupted by another person, and since there was no room to move around anyone, somebody had to relent and turn in the other direction. Other than that, it was remarkably similar to the previous day.

She skimmed titles, she read inside flaps, she looked for familiar authors. But it seemed that the store had it out for her, because everything Lexa saw, she had already read or deemed uninteresting. _Woods, you are not making that walk of shame today,_ she told herself. _Buy a magazine at the very least._

The magazines didn’t interest her either, so she wandered into the classics section. Maybe a good classic was all she needed to jump-start her hobby.

A scuff on the floor a few feet away diverted her attention, and she glanced to the floor only to find a pair of black Converse standing a few feet from her. Looking up, she recognized the girl at the register. Up close, she was an inch or two shorter than Lexa, and her blonde hair had a slight wave to it. Her dark green polo with the bookstore’s logo was less than flattering, but it complemented her eyes. Her nametag read ‘Clarke’.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled, seeming unabashed by Lexa’s blank stare. “I remember you from yesterday, and I thought you could use some help finding something.” When Lexa didn’t reply, she coughed and gestured at the shelves. “I’ve read a lot of the classics. My friends, uh, say I’m super pretentious about it,” she laughed.

Lexa didn’t quite know what to make of her easygoing, friendly demeanor, and it must have showed, because Clarke stepped back. “Well, um, if you need anything, I’m right there,” she finished, her cheeks turning a bit pink as she began walking back to her post at the front.

Okay, now Lexa felt bad. “So,” she called after her, a bit too loudly. She lowered her voice as other customers stared at her “what would you recommend?

_Recommend._ God, she sounded like she was in a fancy restaurant or something. What would you recommend? She couldn’t have possibly picked a more idiotic line.

Clarke, however, didn’t notice Lexa’s embarrassment, and she practically skipped back over. “Well, I read _Jekyll and Hyde_ last year,” she started, gesturing at the book Lexa had been reading the back of, “and if I’m being honest, it really wasn’t my favorite. But have you read _The Great Gatsby?”_

Lexa nodded.

“Did you like it?”

Lexa nodded again.

“Me too. Okay, you don’t strike me as the Jane Austen type, but maybe another time. What about Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_?”

Lexa shrugged. Clarke eyed her and spoke to her in a way that made her feel overexposed, and she subconsciously crossed her arms. This girl seemed way too eager to give her the book, to figure out what her taste in literature was. Maybe it was a sale tactic?

_Well, there aren’t any other options,_ she concluded, and she mustered up half of a smile and took the book.

“Okay then,” Clarke grinned, seeming satisfied (whether with herself or Lexa, she couldn’t tell). “You just have to pay at the front.”

Clarke punched numbers into the register and scanned her book, quietly talking about how much she loved how a woman had jump-started science fiction just with that novel as Lexa glanced between her, the book, and the door. Other customers got in line behind her, and new customers came in. She couldn’t help but wonder if Clarke would pull the same routine on the other people, or if Lexa was just the lucky winner of all that extra attention.

Clarke handed her a paper bag. “You’ll have to come back and tell me what you thought of it…” she trailed off in a way that prompted Lexa to fill in her name.

“Lexa,” she mumbled. Then, as an afterthought, “Woods.”

“Lexa Woods,” Clarke repeated. She tasted the name as if it was milk chocolate, and part of Lexa wanted to hear her say it again.

But she didn’t ask. Instead, she left, gripping the book a bit too tightly.

***

She liked it. She didn’t love it, but she liked it well enough. It was heavy, for sure, but heavy in a way that made her think, not in a way that left her empty and sad. That’s what she could tell Clarke – if she went back. That the book was heavy in a way that made her think, not in a way that left her empty and sad. Yes. That sounded educated and reflective. It would certainly impress Clarke. Lexa would nonchalantly rest an elbow on the edge of the counter, thumbing through the pages, discussing Mary Shelley’s characterization and her underlying message and all of the other literary techniques she had to write papers on for her Literature classes.

If she went back.

***

She went back.

Lexa had finished the book within three days, and used the fourth to contemplate whether she should actually report back to the store. What if it really had been a sale technique? What if it was just part of her training to ask people to come back like that?

To take her mind off the questions, she had called Indra, who had not read the book but said maybe she would. “I didn’t think you liked reading,” she remarked when Lexa brought it up.

“I mean, I do. I don’t like reading for classes, but I like doing it on my own. Anyways, the girl working the store recommended it to me.”

“Hm. Well, if I can find a copy, I’ll read it,” Indra had decided.

After the conversation, Lexa decided that if she went back and Clarke didn’t care about her reaction, she just wouldn’t go back to the bookstore and she would find a new hobby. Or perhaps a new bookstore.

It was around two in the afternoon, the same time she had seen Clarke on both previous occasions, so she hoped this shift was an everyday thing for her. Otherwise, she would look pretty ridiculous, gripping a copy of _Frankenstein_ and asking for a girl named Clarke so she could tell her about this book.

Luckily for her, Clarke was leaning over the counter, reading a different hardcover. Her hair was fully down today, with one side tucked behind her ear. She looked so absorbed in the book that Lexa almost didn’t want to interrupt her, but the bells chiming on the door gave her away. Clarke looked up with slight annoyance, but she smiled when she caught sight of Lexa and waved her over.

Feeling the tips of her cheeks get hot, Lexa walked up to the vacant register, turning the book over in her hands. Upon noticing her, Clarke folded down the page of her own book and rested her elbows on the counter, tucking her hands beneath her chin. “Well?”

Lexa had her rehearsed line in her head all morning, but at that moment, she lost it. Completely blanked. All of the scholarly things she had prepared to say suddenly seemed childish and over-rehearsed. “Well,” she started uneasily, “I did like it.”

“Out of ten?”

“Hm?”

“What would you give it out of ten?” Clarke elaborated.

Lexa was glad to be dealing with someone who enjoyed conversation. It allowed the gaps she left with quick, terse responses to be filled and even appreciated. Thinking for a quick second, she looked from the book cover to Clarke and responded with, “Seven.”

This seemed to satisfy Clarke, who nodded and straightened up behind the counter. “Seven is good. I can work with seven.” And she smiled at Lexa. “Now I know which book to give you next.”

Lexa didn’t protest. Honestly, she would read whatever Clarke gave her if the blonde would keep smiling at her like that.

***

Her next book was _The Old Man and the Sea._ She finished it quickly, brought it back, and rated it a six. Clarke handed her a copy of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ without asking if she would like to read another. Not that Lexa ever would have said no. After all, this was what she had decided to do with her summer, correct? And if Clarke was willing to help, she had no reason to turn it down.

After _Hunchback_ (which took her almost a whole week to finish), Clarke kept drilling the classics. Lexa didn’t hate Jane Austen as much as Clarke thought she would, actually giving _Pride and Prejudice_ a seven-point-five. _Emma_ didn’t interest her at all, however, and when it was returned with a four rating, they took a try at the twentieth century.

_Of Mice and Men_ by John Steinbeck was Lexa’s next assignment. It was only a novella, so it really only took her a couple hours to finish. Clarke had warned her that she might cry at the end, but she didn’t shed a tear. It was sad, but she didn’t cry. Actually, Lexa couldn’t ever remember crying at a book. Or a movie. Not even when she was a child.

She informed Clarke of this fact after rating the novella a six, and the shorter girl was shocked.

“Never?”

“Never.”

Clarke tapped her fingers on the counter and leaned back, blowing air out of her nose. After a moment, her eyes lit up with an almost evil glint that enticed Lexa to some degree. “Oh, Lexa Woods-“ the way Clarke said her name still made her tingle with a shy sort of happiness “-I’m going to change that.”

She disappeared down one of the aisles, stopped in the fiction section, and came back a few seconds later holding a thick book with dark cover art. “ _The Book Thief_ by Markus Zusak,” she announced, passing the copy to Lexa, who jumped at how Clarke’s hand accidentally grazed hers during the exchange. “Now, if you don’t cry at this, I can confidently say that you’re not human.”

That made Lexa laugh, and she passed over the money, observing Clarke as she punched in numbers. She looked so self-assured, so confident and experienced. Clarke made book-selling look like a fine art, even though Lexa could tell it was a minimum-wage deal. The polo gave it away. But god, the way her recommendations got better and better with each visit made Lexa wonder if the girl could see into her soul. She knew it was ridiculous, but…damn it. She was in way too deep.

When Clarke passed the bag to her, their fingers brushed again. Lexa could tell Clarke realized, and Clarke could tell Lexa realized. In a vain attempt to hide the shudder that course through her, Lexa rolled down the top of the bag and tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. Looking up, she realized that Clarke was still watching her. “Thanks,” she interjected into the weighty silence, “for the book.”

“No problem,” Clarke replied, opening her hardcover back up. “See you soon.”

It was unusual of Lexa to offer any more conversation than what was needed. ‘Hello’, ‘thanks’, ‘how are you’ and such other pleasantries usually didn’t escape her mouth. But something about the way Clarke leaned onto the counter, passed her the books, and talked with such passion put her so at ease that sometimes, she forgot herself.

But it didn’t feel weird or uncomfortable. In fact, she would have to try it more often.

***

Clarke was right. She cried. It was a slow, quiet kind of cry that built up over a few pages, but it was there before Lexa recognized it. Such real tears that she let one fall onto the pages of the book, where it picked up a touch of ink and made a winding, wavy path down the paper. Real tears. They scared her and comforted her at the same time. Either way, she was glad she hadn’t read it in public.

It was late at night when she finished the last page, but it didn’t matter. It was eight forty-five PM, and the bookstore was open until 9. She was going to see Clarke right this instant and show her the tears, real tears, on her face that glistened in the light of her lamp and made wavy paths down the pages.

Jogging down the stairs of her apartment building, she burst out the door and shoved the book into her bag all in one smooth motion. Hopefully, Clarke hadn’t closed up yet. Just in case, Lexa alternated between a slow run and a fast walk, her shadow intensifying and melting away as she crossed under street lamps. She had to get there before closing; she had to prove that she cried.

By the time she got to the store, Clarke was fumbling with a key at the door and all of the lights inside were off. Her heavy footfalls gave her away before she could announce herself, and Clarke turned around, smiling that wonderful smile. “I take it you finished the book.”

Lexa inhaled deeply, trying regain her breath. “I’m so…” she searched for the right word. “Upset.”

Clarke laughed, and if her smile made the sun shine, damn it, her laugh made birds sing and flowers grow. And Lexa didn’t care if the sentiment sounded like a cliché, because it was true.

“Out of ten?” she asked.

“Nine,” Lexa responded, having prepared herself for the question.

“Not a ten?”

“I’m saving my ten.”

 “You sound like Hazel Grace,” Clarke pointed out.

“Who?”

The blonde leaned up against the side of the building. “I’ll have you read _The Fault in Our Stars_ soon.”

Both girls stood there, unsure of what to go next. Lexa didn’t want to leave, but they certainly couldn’t stay out on the sidewalk. Other people moved around them, weaving in and out of shops that were still open. The fairy lights strung through the shrubs planted sporadically around the downtown complex had already clicked on for the night, giving the brick buildings an ethereal glow.

It was Clarke who broke the silence. “Well, if you want, you can tell me just how hard you cried over tea? I live like five minutes from here.”

There was a sharp but pleasant feeling at the pit of Lexa’s stomach at the offer, and she agreed a bit too quickly.

***

The car ride over was quick and quiet, save the Hozier CD playing softly from Clarke’s car radio. After five minutes, they arrived at an apartment building scarily similar to Lexa’s. Clarke’s apartment was about the same size as her own, furnished with cozy earth tones, but it was a two-bedroom instead of a one. When Lexa inquired about the other room, Clarke informed her that her friend Raven lived with her. “She’s got an internship at an aerospace lab for the summer.” Clarke snickered. “And I’m working at a bookstore.”

Lexa took a seat at the small table as Clarke put on a kettle in the kitchen. Since the majority of their interactions were over the register, Lexa rarely got to see what the rest of Clarke looked like. Her legs were toned, probably from being on her feet all day. Now that she had changed out of the polo, Lexa could see just how Clarke’s body was sculpted, how her shoulders were the tiniest bit tanned from the summer sun, how her waist had the slightest curve to it, how her jeans perfectly hugged her-

No. No, no, no. Lexa blinked herself back to reality. She could practically hear Anya’s voice in her head: _Staring at her ass two seconds after you get her alone. Classy, Woods. Real classy._

Lexa busied herself with tracing the patterns in the wood tabletop before Clarke returned to the table with two mugs of green tea. “So,” she started, setting a jar of honey on the table as well, “tell me about yourself.”

This came as a surprise. Lexa covered up her tinge of shock by reaching for the honey. “I thought we were talking about the book.”

“We always talk about books. But you’ve come in how many times now? And I’ve talked to you that many times, and I don’t know anything about you,” Clarke reasoned.

It wasn’t said in a way that was prying or invasive, but Lexa still stared into the tea. “Well, I’m not that interesting.”

“I’ll bet that’s a lie,” Clarke smirked.

There was something about the underlying tone of her voice and the way she leaned forward when she said that which made Lexa tense instinctively. “It’s the truth,” she snapped, immediately regretting how harsh she sounded.

Clarke leaned back.

“Sorry,” Lexa offered lamely, feeling guilt stir in the pit of her stomach. _Fucking hell._

“Hm,” Clarke replied, taking a long sip of tea.

God, she had to get better at this type of thing. Taking a deep breath, she started tracing the table again and rattled off whatever random facts came into her head. “I’m twenty years old, I live in town, I go to the university a few miles down the street, I’m a political science major, I don’t have a roommate, and…um…that’s probably it.”

The answer seemed to read as an apology to Clarke, whose frown slowly went away as she rested her arms on the table. “Probably?”

“Probably.”

Nodding, Clarke started to tick off facts on her fingers. “I’m also twenty, I also currently live in this town, I go to Ark College about thirty minutes away as a communications major with a psychology minor, and I work at a bookstore.”

The last bit earned a smile from Lexa, which she covered with a sip of the tea.

“And family,” Clarke continued, “well, for family, my mother’s a doctor, my father died in a car accident a while back, and I don’t have any siblings.”

“Car accident?”

“Mhm. Drunk driving.”

“He was?”

“Someone else was. They hit him and one of his friends in the passenger seat.”

Lexa made a noise of sympathy.

“What about your parents?”

Lexa almost laughed. “What about them, indeed.” She looked at Clarke’s confused reaction over the rim of her mug. “I’m a foster child.”

She hated the pitying looks people gave her when she told people that. It made her feel like a charity case, like she was begging for someone to come along and save her. It was one of the reasons she never told anybody about it (although it made a hell of a college essay). But Clarke just looked at her with a level of interest. There was pity, for sure, but nowhere near enough to make her angry. For that, she was thankful.

After a long pause, Clarke flicked her finger against the side of her mug. “What about relationships?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…seeing anyone?”

Lexa’s heart leapt into her throat.

And just like that, the door flew open and a girl with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail entered, throwing her jacket onto a hook and dumping a huge bag onto the ground. “Griffin, we are ordering pizza. That guy I was telling you about from the floor above me? Yeah? The fucking creep decided it would be _amusing_ to-“ the girl turned around and saw them both wearing shocked expressions and gripping their mugs. She fell silent for a minute, looking from Lexa to the mugs to Clarke. “Am I…you know, interrupting anything?” She pointed between Lexa and Clarke and raised her eyebrows.

“No,” Lexa stammered, releasing her death grip on the mug. “I was just going.”

“What?” Clarke interrupted. “No, you can stay-“

_No, actually, I can’t, because you’re going to make me like you and then you’ll make me love you and then you’ll leave me and I’m not going to do that again, not on my life. You don’t want this. Not like how I want  this._

“I really can’t. Thanks for the tea, I’ll see you around,” Lexa mumbled, realizing how incredibly rude she was being and not really caring. She stepped around the girl who must be Raven and who was still eyeing her, blocking Clarke’s protesting out of her head before she promptly closed the door behind her.

It was a twenty minute walk back to her house, at the very least, but there was no way she was going back in there and asking for a ride.

They should have stuck to books. Everything was so easy when it was all about books.

***

“And you walked out after the roommate came in?”

Lexa laid her hand over her eyes. In the light of the next morning, her hasty actions didn’t seem like a gut reaction that she had to take to stay afloat. They were just embarrassing. And hearing Indra repeat all of them to her through the phone made it all so much worse.

“Yes.” Lexa replied defensively. “Indra, I barely know her. How could I even consider dating her?”

 “Barely know her? You’ve been talking to her for two months.”

“But maybe-“

“Not maybe,” Indra corrected. “Yes, Costia was terrible to you, and yes, Costia cheated…”

“Indra-“

“But it was over a year ago and you need to let go. And from what you’ve told me over the past few weeks, you seem to really like this girl.” Lexa rubbed circles on her temple. “And she seems to be just as interested. Lexa Woods, I know Anya makes fun of me for sounding like a motivational speaker, but nothing is stopping you but you.”

Lexa rolled onto her side, looking at the copy of _Frankenstein_ resting on the bedside table. “Well, I fucked it up and it’s too late now.”

“Lexa.”

“Indra, it’s no big deal. I can go to the university bookstore over the summer, or maybe there’s a Barnes and Noble-“

Indra hadn’t said anything, but Lexa could still hear the silent disapproval and picture her raised eyebrows. Resistance was futile.

“I’ll go talk to her.”

“Now.”

“Yes, Indra, now. God.”

***

The bells on the door announced her arrival, but Clarke didn’t look up immediately. She didn’t have a book to read today; instead, she was staring blankly at the ancient register. Lexa considered walking back out again and coming back another time, maybe when the incident wasn’t so fresh in their minds. But before she could spin around and escape into the Starbucks, the second bell chime as the door closed behind her caused Clarke to stir and glance at the door. She smiled when she saw Lexa, but it was a more tentative smile.

Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, Lexa walked up to the counter and rested _The Book Thief_ on the edge. “You never gave me another book recommendation.”

Clarke laughed and tapped the cover of the paperback placed in front of her. “Right, the books.” Lexa noticed, right off the bat, the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Before Clarke could get up and go find the next assignment, Lexa cleared her throat. “And I never answered your question.”

“Hm?”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone.” Lexa made a noncommittal hand gesture. “Not right this moment.”

Clarke paused, standing up and coming around the counter to fully face Lexa. “I’m not seeing anyone right this moment either.”

Lexa nodded, trying her best to surpress the smile. Clarke seemed to do the same, ducking away to find her next piece of reading material.

Fueling herself from her unexpected moment of bravery, Lexa leaned her back against the counter when Clarke came back and passed her a copy of _Macbeth_. “If you’re interested,” Lexa started, not immediately accepting the book, “maybe we can discuss this one over coffee? My treat.”

And there it was, Clarke’s infectious smile, lighting up even the dingy wallpaper that covered the perimeter of the store. “I’ll see you then.”

This time, when Lexa accepted the book and their fingers brushed, she didn’t jump. She just kept looking at that smile and matching it with her own.

 


End file.
